Wait, what?
by thekerosenesecret
Summary: "I may be slightly in crush with you," you repeat, louder this time. But still not loud enough to overpower the blood rushing through my ears and the loud pounding of my heart. Shit. And that's the mild version. "No you're not." I say, scoffing and suddenly finding immense interest in the floor.


"I may be slightly in crush with you."

"What?" I looked up from my book and stared across the table, wondering whether I'd heard right. "I don't think this canteen sells that soda," I say, trying to steer the conversation in a direction that seemed more normal and natural and not life-changing or paradigm-altering.

"I hate that soda. Fanta is so much better," you say, and I roll my eyes because honestly, they taste exactly the same, and I tell you so, because seeing you pout is honestly the most adorable thing ever.

"Come on, let's go," I say turning away from you and _damn that gorgeous face_ , feeling like maybe my world had righted itself again.

"Righted itself". Back to the world where I sit idly by and glare away the girls that do have the courage to ask you out, and watch you and your stupid gentlemanly ass turn them down so politely they feel like they've actually won. Back to the world where people ask me how I've resisted you for so long and I just shrug and say something mildly witty because I can't bring myself to tell them that _no I haven't resisted you and I want you more than anything._ Back to a scene that I've been comfortable with my whole life.

So I refuse to believe that you said what you did. And I convinced myself of it. I knew that there would come a day when someone would like me, but I knew it wouldn't be you. Because like I said, that's just not how my life works. My life works against me in all possible ways. Murphy's laws ain't got nothin' on me. My whole life is "anything and everything that can go wrong will go wrong" and even things that seem right are wrong somehow, so I shoved those floating words of bliss and fluttery-butterflies to the back of my mind and decided that maybe I'd use them again when giving your eulogy a billion years from now.

I didn't think the butterflies would come flying back just that evening.

But they did. And they threw me for a spin. Because that's just not how my life works.

"Duuuuude. DUUUUUUDE. Oh my god come on!" I shout. You were zoning out like crazy on me, and your steely silence was throwing me off. It was unsettling and I don't like unsettling.

"What's up?" I ask, when you look up, wondering where the sudden stillness came from, given your usual demeanour of a hyperactive bunny-child. I see the look in your eyes that tells me you're gonna say that its nothing and I'm not taking that shit today _especially not when you're wearing that shirt that is a beautiful shirt maybe I'll marry that shirt hot damn that shirt_ and so you sigh and shrug and run your hands through your hair and then you say those words that make even Voldemort's blood run cold.

"I need to talk to you."

"What? What'd I do? Did I do something wrong?"

"No! I just… need to tell you… something." Your uneasiness and nervousness was even more unnerving and by now I was scared beyond belief.

"Can you just say it before I die of a heart attack or something because right now you're scaring me and honestly if you don't want to tell me that that's ju-"

"I may be slightly in crush with you," you repeat, louder this time. But still not loud enough to overpower the blood rushing through my ears and the loud pounding of my heart.

 _Shit. And that's the mild version._

"No you're not." I say, scoffing and suddenly finding immense interest in the floor. And my nailbeds (wow they suck).

"What? Yes, I am. How would you even know? What is happening?"

"No, someone probably paid you. Like they did that time I was in 5th grade. And again that time in 8th grade. And like last week too. Did someone pay you? I'll pay you back?"

 _This isn't happening. Not right now. Why is this happening?_

"Look, I didn't want to freak you out. And I'm sorry I told you. It's not even that big of a deal. I just wanted you to know so that if you catch me staring at you because you are absolutely breathtaking or kind of zoning out when you're talking because all I can think about is how much I'd like to kiss you, just know it's because I have a slight, teeny tiny crush on you."

"What?"

"Yeah, look it's not a big deal it's not going to affect anything between us and you're still my friend and we're still platonic, but there's just something to keep in mind. I just had to tell you. Just to get it out of my system. But you don't have to do anything about it."

And I just stood there. Much too dumbfounded, taken aback, suspicious and above all, absolutely ecstatic to respond or do anything. Mouth agape, slack-jawed, just standing, almost as if in comatose. To the point where you thought I was mad at you and you just left, and I didn't even notice until I heard you sniffling ( _even that was manly and adorable)_ on your way out the door. Which you banged shut in anger. Which is why I haven't talked to you in a week. Which is also why I'm standing here outside your house, seething with anger and frustration and just waiting for you to open your door so I can yell at you and your _stupid gentlemanly adorable ass_ for having come and thrown my life for a whirlwind with your stupid magical words.

"Can I come in?"

"Oh, I see you're talking to me again."

"I wasn't ever not talking to you, you're the one who stormed out."

"Yeah, because you just stopped responding! For like 10 minutes. I can get the message when it's that loud and clear."

"You clearly got the wrong message."

"I got whatever message you sent."

"Can I come in? It's freezing and I have to yell at you and I don't want to do it in the cold."

And even though you huff away, I know you still like me enough to let me into your house. Which is enough to give me the courage to continue.

"Can I get you anything?"

 _Yeah. You._

"Nope, I'm good. But we do have to talk."

 _Or make out. That also works._

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you. It's not a big de-"

"YES IT IS! YOU JUST DON'T GET IT BUT YES IT IS."

"Stop being so emotional about it, it's just a crush!"

"YES I KNOW that's why it matters so much to me! Do you realize that I've never ever been told that someone likes me without them having an ulterior motive before? Do you realize that I live in constant paranoia that one day even my best friends might end up leaking all my secrets to the world and just be like "welp, I guess you got Punk'd"? You don't know even in the slightest, the kind of suspicion and distrust I have surrounding all my friends and family, and I swear I'm not mad at you, I was just taken aback. You have no clue what it did to me, your stupid words. You have no idea how much I've contemplated my existence for the past week and how much I've wanted to make you understand that it's not your fault, but it's really just mine, and you have to understand that, because it broke my heart into two every time I'd look your way and you'd look away."

 _Side note: Those would make amazing song lyrics._

And then there's just silence. As I look at you, into your brown eyes and wonder if maybe if I stare hard enough, I can tell what you're thinking. You, just watching me, with a glazed look in your eye, as if I've broken down a wall that was meant to be impenetrable, as if I've broken something in you. And I don't know if I broke anything in you, but your eyes sure made _me_ feel broken.

"I don't have any ulterior motive. I just really like you. For you. And also your friends would never do that, because that would be the longest episode of Punk'd ever. And I think that show was cancelled a while back too." I chuckle at your attempt at making light of the situation, and it's just one more thing to add to the list of your irresistible qualities.

And if I wasn't heartbroken before, your next words guaranteed the shattering of my heart into a million pieces.

"I was just expecting you to let me down easy. Why don't you just let me down easy?"

 _What. He thought he was going to be let down. Where is his brain?_

"What?"

 _Oh crap, I said that last bit out loud._

I decided there was only one way for me to convey what I was trying to tell you, because words were failing me that day and every day I spent with you. So I walked closer, and closer, and closer, as fast as I could before I lost every ounce of courage in my body. Chest to chest, palm to palm, and nose to nose. And I tilt my head up, and _just kiss him come on,_ slowly lean in, and then chicken the fuck out andbring it to his ear, and whisper, as calmly as possible, "I don't know how you think I'd say no."

And then I turn, attempting a suave, collected and classy exit. But I feel you tug on my arm and I turn back around, back to chest to chest, palm to palm, nose to nose. Not that I was complaining.

"What does that mean?" you ask.

It's now or never.

 _Just do it. Just tilt your head up a bit and pretend like you've done this before._

So I do. I tilt my head up. I lean in. I brush my lips as softly as possible against yours, almost as though it never happened, and turn to walk away again. I made my point, and I was no longer in any position to have any conversations. It's not every day you kiss someone you've always dreamed of kissing, and it's not every day that they actually kiss you back.

But all of a sudden something goes wrong and I feel your lips crash against mine. Oh wait no, something has gone very very right. We're kissing, much hungrier and passionate, hands roaming everywhere they should, because that's the best way to confirm romantic attraction. We back up into a wall, and you lift me up, me wrapping my legs around your waist and you, supporting the back of my head while pushing us both up against the wall, feverish kisses trailing down my neck and nuzzling my neck, once we both decide to come up for air.

"I really am in crush with you," you mumble against my neck, punctuating each word with a kiss that sent shivers up my spine and waves of pleasure through my entire being.

"That's good, because I have been for a while too." I muster, biting my lip at the slight sucking you've started on the top of my shoulder.

"We should do this more often," you say, slowly pulling my t-shirt over my head, and trying to tug my pants down.

"Mm we really should," I moan, fiddling with the zipper on your jeans, and trying to gather my thoughts enough to get your clothes off too.

"We should also really stop before we have sex before we've even decided who gets to be the girlfriend and who gets to be the boyfriend," you joke, but I know you're right.

So you put me down, and we sit on your couch, clothes all half-on, half-off.

"You do want to be my girlfriend right? Because if not, then I'm reading all the signals wrong," you say, gesturing to my lack of shirt.

"Do you want me to be your girlfriend? Because if not, I should really stop trying to get into your pants," I say, teasing you back, and also vaguely gesturing to the fact that I was still trying to undo the zipper.

And you pull me into your lap, sending feather-lite kisses down my throat, and sucking at my neck again, while I finally get your jeans undone. I look into your brown eyes, and you look into mine, both darkened with adrenaline and newfound lust.

"Now that that's settled," you say, and pull me in for the second of an infinite number of kisses to come.


End file.
